


The Demon of Grey Stone Mountain

by EvilReceptionistOfDoom



Series: Hunters [8]
Category: Seirei no Moribito | Guardian of the Sacred Spirit
Genre: ALL the tags, Attempted Murder, Beta Wanted, Blood and Gore, Crime Scene Investigation, Criminal Minds: New Yogo, Demon possession, Detective Work, Extortion, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Horror, Illusions, Mind Control, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Police Procedural, Politics, Racial prejudice, Serial Killers, Strangulation, Suicide, Thriller, class discrimination, magic weavers, race relations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-02-11 07:09:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12930120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilReceptionistOfDoom/pseuds/EvilReceptionistOfDoom
Summary: When a rash of grisly murders hits Kousenkyo, the Hunters must find and stop the killer before he - or it - can strike again.Takes place a year after the anime, three months afterGuardian of the Dream(3rd book in the series).





	1. A Murder in Middle Ougi

Mon's face was grim as he described the murder.  It had been a grisly scene, a double homicide: the wife had beaten the husband to death with a teapot, while he himself stabbed her repeatedly, fatally wounding her.  His body had only been identified thanks to a scar on his arm that the neighbors recognized.  A man had come to deliver eggs to the couple that morning and found the woman lying in a pool of blood next to the mutilated corpse of the man, a knife buried in her stomach, a gore-crusted kettle in her hand.  No one had heard an altercation, and everyone the city guard interviewed had sworn up and down that the couple were mild-mannered and happily married.  Suspicious of the incident, the chief of the city guard had taken the matter to the royal guard, and from thence the case had come, as all difficult cases eventually did, to Ryuu Orutoran and his team of special investigators: Mon and the imperial hunters.  
    But this was not the only mystery the city guard chief arrived with.  This was simply the latest out of nearly a dozen similar incidents that had occurred throughout Kousenkyo over the last three months.  Most had happened in Lower Ougi, so the city guard hadn't bothered to bring the deaths to the attention of the palace guard.  This latest killing, however, had taken place in Middle Ougi, in a nice quiet neighborhood near the Aoyumi River.  In fact, the last three killings had all occurred in Middle Ougi, and the city guard chief feared that Upper Ougi was the next target.  His men were having no luck whatsoever in solving the matter.  Every case involved at least two deaths, including multiple-murders and murder-suicides.  All were shockingly brutal and had apparently occurred out of the blue; in every case the victims had savagely slain each other - or themselves - without cause, without warning, as if in an instant they had all totally lost their minds.  The city guard could not make heads or tails of it.  
    Mon listed off the incidents methodically, his jaw like stone.  An old widow stabbed nearly forty times by a boarder in her house, and the boarder's head bashed in with a club by another boarder whom he had mortally injured.  Four housemates, ostensibly close friends, who had torn each other to pieces like dogs.  A shopkeeper strangled by her sister, having first stabbed her in the neck with an awl.  A couple slashed with a carving knife by their teenaged daughter, who then burned herself alive.  A street vendor hacked to pieces with an axe by his elderly uncle, who afterwards leapt in front of a caravan and was trampled by the horses.  Eleven unsolved instances of slaughter, none with even a sliver of motive, and no connection apparent between the victims, not even a geographical one.  "This isn't going to be an easy one to solve," said Mon.  "However, the Master Star Reader has told me to keep our efforts in the matter to a minimum, so I'm assigning as few people as possible to this.  Jin, you're in charge of the investigation."  
    "Yes, sir."  The younger man bowed quickly, surprised but honored.  
    "Zen, Yun, you'll work with him.  If you need anyone else, Jin, let me know at once.  Begin right away; if there's another incident before we can figure this out, it will reflect badly on us both as Hunters and as royal guards.  You have no time to waste."


	2. A Frustrating Lack of Leads

While the other Hunters went out for guard duty, Jin stayed with Zen and Yun to go over his plan of action.  The first order of business was for Yun, with his special skills, to read through the city guard's incident reports, then go through their records of unsolved cases to see if any similar deaths or assaults had been missed.  Meanwhile, Zen would go to Middle Ougi, to the site of the double murder, and begin asking around.  "We need to find witnesses," Jin explained, serious.  "I'll do the same in Lower Ougi, and see what turns up.  We'll meet up when it gets dark and compare findings."  
    The two older men nodded, and all three left to begin the investigation.  Yun, dressed as one of the Royal Guard, went to the city guard headquarters to look over their files.  When he told the suspicious, tired-looking men in front of the building that he needed to see the records room, they didn't even ask why, they just rolled their eyes and took him there.  The place was a mess, dusty and ill-disturbed, but that came as no surprise to Yun, who thought little of the city guard, and the mess didn't phase him.  The incident reports of interest were already on the table in the center of the room, ready for him.  He sat down and began to read.        
  
Meanwhile, Zen had already begun investigating the crime scene in Middle Ougi, dressed as one of the city guard.  He went over the home of the slain couple in meticulous detail, then went about the neighbors' houses, asking about the deceased, their relationship, their doings the day of the murder, and so on.  He was more persuasive than a normal guard, by virtue of his uniform and his training both - but there didn't seem to be much more information to get.  It was just the same refrain, over and over again: the couple loved each other, they were quiet folk, they had no enemies, they would never have done this, they weren't the sort of people this thing happened to.  The more the hunter pried into the couple's background, the less he seemed to find.  Zen was unflappable, immune to discouragement or frustration, but even he had to admit this wasn't an auspicious way to start a case.  
    Jin was having only slightly better luck.  He had decided the uniform of a government agent wouldn't win him any favors in Lower Ougi, so he had chosen to adopt the drab, practical attire of a commoner - something like a smith or a day laborer might wear.  When the first person he spoke to wanted to know why he was so interested in a stranger's murder, the young man invented a cover story about how his sister had died under similar odd circumstances, and he was trying to track down the killer in order to avenge her and thought he might get some clues here.  "Sure, I went to the city guard, but you know they never do anything," he added, and the old fellow he'd been speaking to nodded knowingly, instantly more receptive and sympathetic: he knew firsthand just how little help the city guard provided poor folk.  The man helpfully answered every question Jin asked.  The cover story Jin had chosen continued to gain people's sympathy, so he decided to stick with it as he moved down the list of murder sites one by one.  
    After a while the interviews all started to blend together.  A dirt-track neighborhood at the edge of town, chickens milling around their feet, while he listened to a woman with a baby on her hip rattle on about the dead neighbors and how scared her family had been after the murders, it being such a freak thing.  Dogs barking in the distance and the sun chewing on his neck as he struggled to interpret the drunk Yaku landlady of a trio of deadbeats who had murdered each other while she was gambling with friends one floor below.  The hazy scent of cooking fires, sweat trickling down his scalp, a halfhearted smile-and-nod at some bystander's assertion that demon possession was to blame for the incident.  
    Actually, demon possession seemed to come up a lot, especially with those who had actually witnessed the crimes.  To a background chorus of cicadas and the slap of wet cloth on stone, a washerwoman whose husband had been one of the suicides explained there were plenty of Yaku legends about people going crazy or becoming suddenly murderously violent.  "My husband was a gentle man," she said wearily.  "He was happy.  We were both so happy.  We'd only just been married - we had such big plans."  She sighed and seemed to droop under her grief.  "He would never have killed himself.  When I saw the man leap from the window, it never even crossed my mind it was Toda.  He wouldn't have done that.  But I had seen a man jump out of our house, and the body was his."  
    "Could he have been trying to flee something?  Perhaps it was accidental," Jin offered.  
    "I thought that, too," said the woman with another sigh.  "A few of the neighbors thought they saw smoke coming from our house.  But when the guard examined the house, there was no sign of a fire.  There was just the other dead man - my husband's brother.  They- they said he killed him, but Toda loved his brother.  They were best friends.  They would never have hurt each other."  
    "Did your husband have any enemies?"  
    "Not at all.  I told the guardsmen already - he was gentle.  The only fight he ever got into was with his parents over marrying me, and even that wasn't much of a fight.  They resolved their differences.  There was no bad blood between them."  
    "What was the fight about, if I may ask?"  
    "They didn't want him marrying a Yaku," she said with a sad laugh.  "Can you imagine?  In this day and age?  It's not like we're the royal family.  Every Yogo commoner's got some Yaku in him, now."  
    The Hunter was thoughtful as he walked back through Middle Ougi that night to meet Zen.  He had been out since nearly sunup, yet still nothing seemed to make sense.  He stopped at a street vendor for stir-fry, then sat on the railing of the Nakamichi Bridge to eat, lost in thought.  He didn't even notice Zen walking towards him until the other had almost reached him.  
    "Anything?" Jin asked, sitting up.  
    Zen shook his head.  "You?"  
    "No, nothing.  But I still have more places to check out."  
    "So have I," said Zen.  He settled down next to the other man.  "This is a puzzling case.  I examined the scene of the murder up and down, but there wasn't a single clue.  The couple's only visitor was an old man no one had seen before, but only one person saw him and she didn't know why he was there or see him leave.  She couldn't describe him, either - just old, ragged, and probably Yaku.  That could be any beggar in the city."  
    "Maybe he was a monk.  Or a travelling salesman."  
    "Exactly: he could have been anyone.  The woman I spoke to didn't even see him go inside."  
    Jin frowned.  He tapped his chopsticks against the side of the bamboo bowl that held his dinner, thinking about the things he had heard today, collating, looking for patterns.  Nothing new presented itself; the only similarity between all of the dead was apparently the surprise of their friends and neighbors at the violence of their deaths.  And he and Zen had already known about that before they went investigating.    
    "Maybe Yun's found something," he said at last.  Zen merely shrugged.


	3. Racial Undertones

Yun, however, was still reading reports and had sent word for the others not to disturb him.  This was not uncommon when he was researching something.  Yun took in the information so quickly that he needed to give it time to settle in before he could start to process it, and he tried to minimize distractions and interruptions, which would throw him off before the patterns in the data could take shape.  He would often go without sleep until he had read everything of pertinence, then, once finished, sleep twelve or fourteen hours in one go, and wake up understanding everything.  It was just the way his mind worked.  Neither Jin nor Zen was surprised, but they were disappointed.  Jin reported their progress (or lack thereof) to Mon, and he and Zen turned in early.  They had to be up before dawn if they were going to use all the daylight hours to finish their interviews.  Jin dreamt that people on the street suddenly started killing each other, so that everywhere he went, as soon as he arrived, the townsfolk would suddenly turn crazy and violent.  It was an unpleasant dream and he slept poorly.  
    In the morning, he and Zen walked into town in silence.  Zen veered off the main road when they reached Middle Ougi, headed for the home where the dead couple's housemaid now worked.  Jin continued on until he reached a grimy boarding house near the Torinaki River, the scene of the triple murder where the woman who ran the place had been stabbed.  A teenager was out front, sweeping the street in front of the building.  The hunter walked up, held out a friendly hand, and started asking questions.  
    For both Zen and Jin, the day's investigation felt like deja vu. Over and over, the same refrain.  This whole thing was really growing tiresome.  
    After hearing for the nth time how unviolent the deceased had been and how horrific and shocking their deaths, Jin thanked his witness, a balding fellow sitting on a bench in front of a rundown boarded-up storefront, and turned away, looking for the best route to his final destination on the list of crime scenes.  He was relieved to be so near the end, despite these two days of work seemed to have been a waste.  He stood still too long, however, and the bald man, squinting at him, said, "How long you gonna keep at this, son?  Til you find the man that killed your sister?"  
    Jin glanced back and nodded.  
    "I'll tell ya why your sister got murdered," the man continued.  He nodded sagely to himself, then jerked at finger at the youngster before him.  "You're Yogo people.  Tell ya, there's a war on us right now, down here in the slums.  The Yaku are getting crowded out, and they don't like it, so they're going after us Yogoese.  Better watch your back, son, or they'll get you, too."    
    Thinking privately that the Yaku were peaceful and this man was delusional, Jin promised he'd be careful and quickly went to find the last murder site, not wishing to give the bald fellow another chance to delay his departure.   
    It was only as Jin was walking to the Nakamichi Bridge to meet Zen that evening that the comment returned to him.  He considered it, rolling the idea back and forth and checking every angle.  He bought a bento box and tea and continued to ponder his new theory, and by the time Zen arrived the younger hunter was ready to articulate it.  
    "All the victims are pureblooded Yogoese," he said.  
    Zen rested his bulk on the bridge railing.  "That's no great coincidence, though, is it?"  
    "Maybe not in Middle Ougi, but in Lower Ougi?  I didn't notice at first, but every case, no matter where it happened, all of the victims were Yogoese, with no noticeable Yaku blood in them.  And in several instances the people I spoke to brought up that fact, as if it were important.  I think the murders were racially motivated."  
    "I still think it could be coincidence."  
    Jin outlined his hypothesis in greater detail, telling Zen about the Yaku woman whose husband fought with his parents over his marrying a Yaku woman, the man whose brother had been threatened when he moved into a building whose other tenants were mainly Yaku, the several victims who had been known to make disparaging remarks about the Yaku or whose relatives made similar remarks to Jin in a spirit of camaraderie, and the several Yaku witnesses he spoke with who had lamented how their culture was being subsumed by that of the Yogoese.  "I'm telling you, Zen, this is a clue.  I think it's more important than it seems."  
    Zen shrugged.  "Your instincts have been good in the past.  But I'm curious to see what Yun turns up.  I didn't hear any of that race talk during..."  He paused.  "That's not true.  This latest couple used to be 'cultural ambassadors' or something - they would go out to the Yaku villages every winter and try to spread the Yogo religion and way of life, things like teaching children how to read and write, trying to convince the villagers to dress differently, spreading civilization.  Apparently their efforts were not especially successful, so they stopped after a few years.  But the wife's sister did say they'd received threats once or twice telling them to stop, while they were still doing it.  Then again, that was a decade ago.  It seems a stretch to call it related."  
    "I disagree.  There's no limit to how long a person can nurse a grudge."  
    Again Zen only shrugged.  He pointed to the bento box, the contents of which were growing cold.  "You going to finish that?"  
    Jin wordlessly handed it over.  
  
"It's funny you should say that," Yun replied when Jin explained the theory to him the next morning.  Yun had returned to the barracks late at night, and he was updating the other two before he returned to the records.  "I'm nearly through the unsolved case files, and I've found several that match our killer's M.O., but weren't given to us because they happened too long ago, or because there was only one victim.  And all those victims have been Yogoese as well.  I have to agree with Zen, that it could still be coincidence, but..."  
    "But it's plausible."  
    "Yes."  
    "Give me the list of the similar incidents you have so far, and Zen and I will go investigate them.  Then we'll meet back here, and you can give us your final findings this evening."  
    "Okay.  I'll definitely be done by then."  
    True to his word, Yun had finished scanning and collating the entirety of the Kousenkyo cold-case vault by that evening, and when he, Jin, and Zen met in the front room of the hunters' barracks that night, he had something interesting to report.  
    "This is the earliest one," he announced, handing over a police record book open to a page near the middle.  "The city guard called it a suicide, but they left the case open because the pieces didn't match up to the assigned detective's satisfaction.  A man fell from a window just over two years ago - one witness said he jumped, another said there was smoke pouring out of the window and the man was trying to escape a fire, and a third said the place was full of smoke, but she saw another man inside the apartment and swore the dead man was pushed.  The apartment had no signs of fire inside, beyond in the hearth, and no one was living there besides the victim, but the man was mentally sound and had no motive for killing himself.  And," Yun added, "the door to the apartment had been damaged.  But, none of the evidence was conclusive.  ...I should also mention the victim was Yogoese."  
    "A bystander saw smoke at the scene at one of the Middle Ougi murders as well," said Zen.  
    "And at a few of the Lower Ougi ones," said Jin.  "I don't think that's coincidence, either, but it doesn't help us for now.  We need to check out this last place.  I feel as if it's the key to all this.  Zen, you come with me tomorrow to see what we can dig up.  Yun, it would be helpful if you could make a list of similarities between the crimes based on what you read.  Then we'll have to meditate on the matter, see what we're missing, decide how to proceed.  I think we're close."  
    Privately Yun thought his junior was being too optimistic, but he only said, "I'll take care of it."  Zen was reading the crime report, frowning, but he also said nothing.


	4. The First Death

The next day found Zen and Jin at the site of the first death, a second-story apartment in a slummy district of Lower Ougi.  Both of them went into the building, but they approached from different directions and arrived at different times.  Jin went inside as if he were supposed to be there, a tenant or a guest, and proceeded to the unit from which the deceased had been pushed.  He tapped on the door and gave the grey-haired Yaku lady who answered it a friendly smile before launching into the story about his dead sister.  "I was wondering if I could ask about-" he started to say, but at the mention of murder the woman's face had paled, and before he could mention the incident two years ago, she slammed the door in his face.  When he knocked again, she yelled at him to go away and stay out of other people's business.  
    Frustrated, the hunter went to the other units in the apartment.  One tenant said her family had only moved there a few months earlier, and another wasn't home, but the third beckoned him inside and offered him tea.  He accepted and listened while the lady - short, plump, and beady-eyed - described the incident.  She hadn't seen it herself, but she'd been living here when it happened.  
    "Why did your neighbor get so belligerent when I asked about murder?" Jin asked, waiting for the tea to cool.  
    "Oh, her.  She's superstitious.  You know, they said the landlord killed himself, but we all know it was a curse that did him in.  It was a demon."  
    Jin gave her a look of mild surprise.  "A demon?"  
    The woman nodded emphatically.  "We Yaku have plenty of stories about this sort of thing.  Well - not plenty, exactly, but enough.  A magic weaver can set a curse on someone, and the curse brings a demon that can make you do whatever the magic weaver wants.  He wasn't a good man, you know - he had a lot of enemies.  Anyone could have hired a magic weaver to curse him.  Or he could have brought the demon on himself.  Evil people do that, you know."  
    "Yes, I've heard that."    
    By the time that Jin and Zen had both left the building and met up at a market square a few blocks away, they had learned a great deal about the murder victim - not so much about the crime itself.  The dead man had owned not only this building but the entire block, with mostly poor mixed-race tenants.  Zen had spoken with a number of them and been told that the landlord was unfair and broadly hated.    
    "No one was sad to hear about him, the moneygrubbing old bigot," a middle-aged woman had announced as she was sweeping her steps.  "Got just as much Yaku in him as I, but here he goes thinkin' his light skin means he can gouge us out of our rent.  No question, it wasn't no suicide, don't care what the city guard said.  Someone bumped him off, and good riddance to bad rubbish, says me."    
    Zen, posing as a recent arrival to the city looking to find a place to live, perked his eyebrows.  "Murder?" he said, blithely intrigued.  "You think one of the other renters murdered the landlord?"  
    "No question," the woman repeated.  "But whoever done it ain't fessing up.  Only one who left after the bastard croaked was an old guy, frail as ash and about a thousand years old.  Oh, he hated the boss more'n anyone, but you can bet he didn't push a man that size out a window."  
    Hearing this recounted, Jin frowned, thoughtful.  "The woman I spoke to seemed to think the man was impelled to jump to his death by a Yaku demon."  
    "A demon?"  Zen sniffed.  "Any number of people wanted him dead, and just like your instincts predicted, they were mostly Yaku.  We don't need to invoke demon possession to explain how the landlord ended up pushed out a window."  
    "Maybe not.  But who would have done it?  The tenants on that block are mainly women, children, and old folks.  The landlord was tall and fat.  I looked at the building from outside, and the window he jumped from isn't even at floor level.  The killer would've had to hoist the victim off the ground to get him out the window.  I don't think even you could do such a thing if a man that size were struggling.  Besides, people keep talking about demon possession and Yaku legends.  I wonder if that isn't a clue itself."  
    "The simplest solution is usually the correct one."  
    Jin shrugged.  "What's simpler, that a middle-aged woman lifted an obese man off the ground and pushed him out a window, or that the man climbed out on his own?"  
    "Then it was suicide."  
    "Half the cases we've looked at have included suicides."  
    Zen folded his arms.  "So you think there's a Yaku demon on the loose, making people kill themselves and others?  Because it's angry about Yogo people invading its land, two centuries after the fact?"  
    "Or a magic weaver masquerading as a demon."  
    Zen thought on this.  He considered Jin's theory far-fetched, but he also wasn't the sort to dismiss something offhand.  He thought of what the people he'd spoken to had said.  He thought of the constant, maddening refrain: that this just wasn't like them, that the victims would never hurt themselves or anyone else, what a shock this had all been.  He thought of the couple in Middle Ougi who'd received death threats for evangelizing the Yaku villages, of the landlord who'd habitually overcharged his Yaku tenants, of the things he and his colleague had overheard in the course of their interviews - little details Jin had noticed, which Zen had thought were inconsequential because they were so commonplace.  Even the city guardsmen had mentioned that the Yaku and the Yogo people often locked horns, especially in the poorest parts of the city.  Was it any wonder this rash of violence had begun in a slummy apartment building where aging Yaku were forced to make do with baiting and price-gouging because they couldn't afford better?  And if race did, in fact, play a role in these cases... well, perhaps there was something supernatural going on here as well.  He nodded slowly, at last, and said, "I suppose we'll find out soon enough if you're right."


	5. Coincidences

The pair walked back to the barracks together, content with the progress they'd made and the pleasant weather.  At last the heat seemed to have broken; today finally felt like fall.  People bustled up and down the broad central avenue: workmen on their way home, shoppers looking for a deal, merchants hawking food, livestock, and anything else a person could want.  Seeing the mass of people going about their business, unaware of the horrific murders that had taken place in this very city less than a week earlier, both men were privately given pause.  A young couple walked past hand-in-hand and Jin was reminded of the woman whose in-laws hadn't wanted their son marrying a Yaku, who'd been wed only a month before the man slew his brother and then himself.  A group of teenagers laughing as they wandered by made Zen think of the roommates who had gone from being best friends to killing each other in the space of hours.  The hunters' expressions were dark by the time they met Yun to hear what their colleague had discovered in cross-analyzing the cases.  
    "You're right," said Yun, looking at Jin.  The three had all sat down cross-legged on the floor of one of the barracks' rooms.  "In every case, there was some cause for Yaku grievance against the victims - though some more contrived than others."  He listed off each incident methodically, giving the possible racially-based motives for the victims' deaths.  The best-friend roommates had publically harrassed a Yaku beggar, for instance, and the couple who were killed by their daughter had dismissed a Yaku servant on the daughter's recommendation.  There were shopkeepers who refused or mistreated Yaku customers, the man who had married a Yaku woman, a boarding-house manager who had admitted a Yogo boarder over a Yaku - on and on.  In each instance, Yun also listed off those who might have known of the offense.    
    "Couldn't these still be coincidences?" Zen interrupted midway through Yun's recitation.  "So few of the things you describe sound definitive to me."  
    "If it were just the majority of the cases, yes," said Yun, "but it's in every single one.  And remember, Zen: these are things that the city guard felt were important enough to add to the official records on these cases.  I am quite sure that the correlation is genuine."  Zen accepted this, and Yun continued.  When he had finished, the air in the room felt heavy.  
    "That's a huge number of witnesses," said Jin unhappily.  "We'll never be able to follow up on all of them.  Did you compare the lists to see if there were any overlaps?"  
    Yun nodded.  "But that doesn't narrow it down in any significant way.  There's just too many unknowns.  The tenants of the first victim are likely to be your best lead."  
    "Yes, I agree.  I would ask whether any of them has anything in common with the people possibly involved in the other incidents, but I can't imagine there are any records on a bunch of renters in a slum."  
    "Only their names," said Yun.  He produced a piece of parchment, which he handed over.  "Financial records for the deceased.  This is a list of everyone who was renting from the man within six months of his death, along with the cost of their rent and any changes to that cost during the same six-month period."  
    "They nearly all increased," said Zen, taking the paper from Jin.  
    "We'll look up the tenants whose rent went up the most drastically, first," said Jin.  "Yun, what else did you find?"  
    "About ten percent of the witnesses mentioned seeing smoke or steam at the time of the incident.  You had mentioned you thought that might be a clue, as well."  
    "But no evidence of fire?"  
    "Nothing out of the ordinary.  Otherwise, there are no clear commonalities.  But I did notice one more important thing."  
    "Yes?"  Jin was feeling discouraged; he really hoped Yun was going to end this report with something good.  
    Instead, the older hunter's face grew grim.  "The frequency of the crimes.  It's increasing.  If the person behind these keeps to the pattern he's established, I expect the next murder could be within the week."  
    "This week?!" Jin almost jumped to his feet.  "You can't be serious!"  
    "I couldn't be any more serious, Jin.  If we don't find this man and stop him, he's going to kill again.  We're racing against time."  
    "Damn.  Damn!"  He stood, paced, scowled out the window at the rising moon as if betrayed.  They wouldn't be able to continue their investigation til morning, but the killer could be out there right this moment, ending another life.  "Yun," Jin said suddenly, "did you see any mention in the police reports of a magic weaver, a curse, or a demon?"  He hadn't been planning to mention it until he had more evidence for his theory, but if Yun was right, this wasn't the time for reticence.  
    Yun raised his eyebrows.  "You think there's something supernatural about these crimes?"  
    "It's come up again and again over the course of the investigation, and it's making more and more sense to me.  But Zen pointed out it might only be coincidence.  I'd feel better presenting my idea to the chief if I had more proof.  Please tell me you found something."  
    Yun thought for several minutes.  The other two waited patiently, knowing that Yun was re-running the reports he'd read through his mind, as if flipping through them in person.  At last Yun nodded.  "It was certainly mentioned more often than not.  Witnesses claiming this was some sort of Yaku curse, or that the dead were possessed, that a demon made them do it.  But - Jin, I'm inclined to agree with Zen.  Those are the sort of thing that might be invoked at any murder.  I don't think it means magic was actually involved."  
    "Maybe, maybe not."  Jin nodded sharply, as if to himself.  "All right.  Tomorrow, you two go into town and start looking up the first victim's tenants.  I'm going to find someone who can tell me about demons."  
    Zen and Yun both nodded.  Certainly, it didn't seem likely, but then again, just a few months earlier they'd seen a case of demon possession right in front of them, and had to fight it off.  They'd never have said it could be possible before that, either - but now?  Who could say?  If Tanda the herbalist could be turned into an unstoppable monster by a demon, who was to say that these murders hadn't been caused by something similar?  Certainly not they.  ...Besides, this was Jin's investigation.  If he ended up being wrong, Zen and Yun wouldn't be the ones who took the fall.


	6. Outside Help

Jin left the palace at first light, riding fast towards the hills above Kousenkyo.  He was by now convinced that magic had something to do with these crimes, and he was determined to get more information - perhaps another direction for his detective efforts, as the current ones all seemed to lead to nothing.  He knew one person that could help whom he could trust, and one person only.  
    As he neared the clearing where Tanda's hut was, the hunter reined in and dismounted.  He left the horse to graze at the edge of the clearing and walked the rest of the way.  Early-morning light streamed through the trees, making silver patterns like lace across the path.  He had halfway hoped Tanda would be alone, but wasn't surprised to find otherwise.  Balsa the bodyguard was practicing her spearwork outside the house.  The hunter moved slower and slower the closer he got, partly because he was admiring her practice and figured she'd stop if she spotted him, and partly because he didn't want to talk to her.  It wasn't that she'd been unfriendly - not at all, quite the contrary.  But he always felt awkward around her.  Even watching her now made him feel clumsy and inadequate, just like when he was a boy struggling to catch up to his colleagues.  Balsa's grace, power, agility, speed were all so unattainable, so unapproachable.  It didn't help that she was pretty as well as athletic.  Jin wished he could be like Tanda: content with inferiority.  He tried to remind himself that he and Balsa weren't in a competition to see who could be the better warrior... but it bothered him that, if there were such a competition, he wouldn't even make it through the first round.  
    "Enjoying the scenery?"  
    Jin started.  Balsa had stopped practicing and was walking over, grinning, her spear across one shoulder.  He felt heat rising in his face and quckly bowed, hoping she wouldn't notice but knowing she already had.    
    "Have you brought a letter from Chagum?"  
    "No... I'm actually here to see Tanda.  Is he up to having visitors?"  Tanda was still recuperating from the injuries he'd received at the start of the summer, when the herbalist had briefly turned into a monster and had to be forcibly subdued.  In truth, Jin was himself still recovering from the episode as well - but Tanda had been in much worse shape after the whole thing, and Balsa had been tending to him because he couldn't take care of himself very well without help.  The hunter got the impression Tanda didn't mind being the patient for once, especially since it meant Balsa was sticking around until he was better.  Tanda was probably hoping he never got better, if it would keep Balsa in his home.  
    "I think so.  He'll be glad to see you.  I think he's getting bored of my company."  Balsa's eyes twinkled.  Her easy humor was yet another thing that made it so difficult for Jin to behave like a normal human being around her.  It wasn't fair.  People this perfect shouldn't exist - not outside of the royal family, anyhow.    
    Cursing himself, Jin struggled out a 'thank you' and hastily ducked inside the hut.  The darkness took a moment to adjust to.  Blinking, he saw Tanda sitting by the hearth, peeling yamabime.  The herbalist smiled and beckoned him with a hand.  "Jin!  Welcome!  How is Chagum?"  
    "He's well.  He's been much better since seeing you."  
    "I haven't had a chance to finish my latest letter," Tanda said apologetically.  "I didn't expect you for another week, so..."  
    "It's fine, Tanda-san.  I'm... not actually here for his highness."  
    "No?"  Tanda frowned.  "You're not hurt, are you?"  
    "No, no.  Not since you, anyhow."  
    The herbalist started to apologize again before he realised this was a botched attempt at a joke and caught himself.  He suddenly grinned disbelievingly.  "Can it be this is a social call?"  
    "You might call it that..."  
    Tanda gave him an odd look.  "Something's bothering you.  Is it Balsa?  I know she makes you nervous."  
    "She doesn't-" he started to protest, then sighed and laughed.  "Nevermind, you know better.  She's been perfectly nice.  She's just naturally disconcerting."  
    "Jealous?" Tanda chuckled.  
    "Of you or of her?"  This time the joke came out a little better - recognizable as a joke, at least.  "Truly, though, Tanda-san, you're lucky to have her."  
    "Well, I'm lucky to have her for now.  Once this leg knits... who knows."  Tanda gave a self-deprecating shrug.  
    Jin knew better than to try to reassure the herbalist.  Instead, he decided to cut to the point.  "Tanda..." he asked, "I was wondering...  Can a magic weaver force someone else to do things contrary to their nature?"  
    Tanda looked up, frowning and confused.  "Certainly there are stories about it being done, but.... what do you mean, contrary to their nature?"  
    "Like... hurting themselves.  Or their loved ones."  
    "That's an odd and rather morbid question, don't you think?"  
    "Nonetheless.  Is it possible?"  
    "Sure, it's possible - but she'd have to be an unbelievably powerful magic weaver.  Mistress Torogai is the most powerful I know of, but I don't know that she could force someone to..."  His brow furrowed.  "Perhaps if she used a glamour to make the victim appear to be someone else.  Like if it were you and I, she might make you see me as an enemy soldier, or a criminal, or someone trying to hurt the prince.  Then you'd naturally try to stop me.  So... yes, it's possible."  
    "Have you ever heard of anyone doing it?"  
    "No."  Tanda frowned.  "Is that why you came here?  To ask me about this?  Has something happened at court?"  
    "No, everything's fine at court.  But there have been some incidents in the city that seem... suspicious."    
    "Suspicious, how?"  Tanda paused, his face serious.  "Are you allowed to talk about this?"  
    "I don't know, probably not."  The hunter shrugged.  "But no one will care because it's only commoners involved.  Besides, I need your help.  I'm convinced the person behind the crimes I'm investigating is a Yaku magic weaver, but I don't have any tangible proof, and I don't know where to get a list of magic weavers around Kousenkyo.  It's not as if they advertise."  
    "Well... not exactly," said Tanda slowly.  "Yogo people like to write everything down, but the Yaku are a people of oral traditions.  If a Yogoese tradesman wants to get more customers, he puts up signs.  If a Yaku tradesman wants the same, he does it through word of mouth.  So it's true there's no directory of magic weavers I can give you.  But you may be able to get a list all the same."  Tanda sighed and shifted his weight awkwardly; his leg was still in a splint, which he found unwieldy, uncomfortable, and highly inconvenient.  He didn't seem happy with the way the conversation had turned, either.  "Yaku shamans have reputations," he explained reluctantly.  "There are good and bad uses for any type of magic, and a shaman may specialise in one thing or the other.  The sort of magic weaver who performs curses doesn't tend to be open about their identity and just what magic they're willing to perform, so... it's really more of a rumor than anything else.  Sometimes the rumors aren't even true.  My own brother accused me of working curses when I first began studying magic.  For many people, all magic is frightening, good and bad alike, and anyone who performs one kind must surely perform the other.  But the fact is, very few magic weavers are willing to use their arts for evil."  
    "I understand," said Jin, and indeed, he did.  Tanda was surely bothered by this topic because he imagined he might be sending whoever he implicated right to prison.  "We won't arrest anyone we're not certain had some involvement.  You have my word."  
    Still, however, Tanda hesitated.  "I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask," he said at last.  "I'm really just an apprentice.  The only person who can reliably comment on a magic weaver is another magic weaver, so really, the person you want to talk to is Master Torogai."  
    Jin almost groaned aloud, but caught himself.  Torogai!  That old witch was about the last person in the world he cared to consult, but he knew that Tanda was right.  "Is she even around?" the hunter asked dubiously.  "To hear you talk, her movements are almost as unpredictable as Balsa-san's..."  
    "Well, Balsa's predictably gone..."  Tanda hastily returned to the subject, knowing this was no time for self-pity.  "But yes, Master is around.  In fact, she should be coming here today."  He indicated the yamabime he'd been preparing.  "I was making this for her."  
    "Do you know how long she'll be?"  Jin was impatient and didn't like the idea of waiting around Tanda's hut all day, having to interact with Balsa and make friendly conversation with them both - especially just to have Torogai never show up.  "Maybe I should come back tomorrow."  
    "No, I don't think she'll be long.  Master Torogai loves yamabime, and-"  
    "Did I hear someone say my name?  Oh, it's one of you," said the old woman's voice from the door, her lip curling distastefully at the last word.  She scowled at the hunter as she walked inside.  "What's this dog doing here?" she asked Tanda, reaching for the bowl of fruit.  
    Tanda gave Jin a look of apology, embarrassed at his master's rude behaviour, then explained what Jin was here about.  Torogai listened, shooting several annoyed looks in the hunter's direction as she slurped her fruit.  At last, after Tanda had finished and the yamabime was half gone, the old woman grumbled, "Why are you so sure these 'incidents' or whatever have got anything magical about them?  My apprentice here's pretty simple-minded sometimes, but how do I know you're not just blaming the Yaku because we're an easy target?"  
    Jin bristled internally, but he maintained his self-control.  Deciding that the murders weren't secret so there was no reason to hold back, the hunter told Tanda and Torogai everything: the unexplained murder-suicides, the irrational behaviour, the repeated mention of demon possession, even the apparent racial motivations behind the crimes.  Tanda looked horrified, but Torogai took out her pipe and smoked while she listened, her scowl deepening.  
    "I came here because there's a good chance this person will kill again soon, and you were the only people I knew who could tell me if my theory was plausible or not," Jin finished.  "If you can help, please do.  Someone's life may be at stake."  
    Torogai hmmphed, but she looked thoughtful.  "A killer who can control their victims' minds, huh?  That'd have to be a pretty powerful magic weaver, indeed.  But it's certainly not impossible.  You dogs were easy enough for me to fool without any difficult spells.  If I wanted, I'm pretty certain I could get your average person to attack a stranger.  Kill him?  I don't know about that.  But then, I don't practice dark magic.  But... I can tell you who does."  
    "Thank you, Mistress Torogai."  The hunter spoke very respectfully, and bowed his head in deference.    
    Torogai snorted.  "I haven't done it yet, mutt."  
    "Master!" cried Tanda, appalled.  "How can you be so rude?"  
    Torogai threw up a dismissive hand.  "I'm old," she sniffed.  "I can do whatever I want."  She frowned again at the Hunter.  "You ready, dog?  I'm only going to say this once."  When he nodded, she launched into a rambling litany of villages where this or that magic weaver who did curses was said to live, with pertinent details delivered as she thought of them.  "I've heard there's a pretty powerful magician up in Keya Village... or was that Geya Village?  And there's that old bat up in the foothills, but she's harmless, really - just has a lot of cats.  Your culprit's probably near the city, if it's a magic weaver, after all.  But there just aren't that many around here..."  This went on for some time.  Jin dutifully scribbled all of it in a small book, not trusting himself to keep Torogai's descriptions straight otherwise.  
    "And that's about all of them," said the old woman at last.  She paused, frowning.  "You wrote it down?" she said dubiously.  
    Jin nodded.  
    "Hmph," Torogai scoffed.  "I thought you people were supposed to be smart.  It's not going to help you, anyways.  There are hardly any magic weavers anywhere near powerful enough to do something like what you've described.  Demon possession is rare - I think your prince is the only likely case I've heard of, and that turned out to be harmless.  I think it's more likely some kind of disease."  
    "What kind of disease?" Tanda interrupted, looking exasperated.  "I've never heard of a disease that could drive people mad like that."  
    "A worm that crawls in through your nose when you're sleeping and eats your brain.  I'm sure I've heard about it somewhere."  
    "Master," said Tanda, "don't joke about such morbid topics."  
    Torogai grinned and reached for the yamabime.  She ignored the men entirely as she began slurping down the remainder of the fruit, and again Tanda gave his guest an apologetic look.  
    "I should go," said Jin.  "Thank you, Master Torogai."  She didn't even grunt in acknowledgment; Tanda sighed audibly.  
    "Good luck on solving your case," said Tanda, following the hunter outside.  "I'm glad to see you getting to use your skills for something good."  
    "Thank you, Tanda-san.  Please take care of yourself." 


	7. Guesswork

"What do you want me to do with this?" Yun asked, his eyes narrowing as he studied the list.  "Cross-compare this list of rumors with... what?  The last known addresses of the tenants of the first murder victim?"  
    "Yes."  
    "Addresses which could be false.  Which half of the tenants don't even have."  
    Jin didn't have the patience to argue, and he didn't feel like wasting any more time on the issue.  "What's it going to hurt?" he asked.  
    The older hunter sniffed and took the list.  "I hope for your sake this wild goose chase pans out, Jin.  Otherwise, you're going to make all of us look like idiots."  
    "Then so be it.  Let me know what you find."  
  
Yun called together Jin and Zen just over an hour later.  He had a list of his own, with about twenty names on it.  "Here you are," he said, handing the list to Jin.  "Every tenant of the first murder victim with a connection to one of these Yaku villages that you say has an evil magic weaver in it, with the name of the village in question and the person's current address if we had it available.  I only considered those whose rent had increased prior to the landlord's death.  I'm guessing you're going to try and track them all down for questioning."  
    "That was the idea."  Jin looked at the list.  Several of the tenants came from the same villages.  "A lot of them come from Seshira Village.  That's only a day's ride from here, right?"  
    "Seshira Village is one of the largest Yaku settlements in this region," said Zen.  "Many people come from there simply because there are more people there to migrate out of it."  
    "Oh."  Jin felt stupid.  Suddenly he wondered if Yun were right to be so dubious.  This was such an important case.  So many things were riding on his success: Mon's reputation, his own future as a Hunter, not to mention whatever lives this murderer planned to take next.  Was he wrong to have focused in so much on the magical aspect of the case?  Was he wasting everyone's time following a set of clues to nothing, when the deaths could be attributed just as easily to something mundane, gangs or bad liquor or a cult or even parasites, like Torogai had joked about?  What would he do if someone died because he hadn't moved fast enough, or because he'd been wasting time following bad leads?  
    "Do you want me to check out any of these addresses?" prompted Zen, nudging the other out of his thoughts.  
    "Yes," said Jin, quickly businesslike.  "You and I will go and follow up on the ones we have addresses for.  Yun, you go back to the municipal records and see if you can't find addresses for the rest of them, and cross-compare those, too."  No use second-guessing himself now.  They were committed; and besides, it wasn't as if they had any other leads.  "Dismissed."  
  
The brief facsimile of fall dissolved by early afternoon, and the evening was hot as ever, sweaty and oppressive.  By the time the three men reconvened after dinner, all three were feeling more than a little discouraged.  Yun, his expression cold, handed over the list of addresses that were the results of his further investigation; it wasn't a very long list.  Jin had interviewed three people and learned nothing - the landlord was hated, they heard he killed himself, and no, no one had ever mentioned a magic weaver, and certainly never hired one to curse the landlord, much as he'd deserved it.  Zen hadn't even gotten that far: the addresses he'd checked out had all been outdated, and none of the people living there now knew where the apartments' former occupants had gone.    
    "Okay," Jin said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.  "We'll try the rest tomorrow."  But as he struggled to fall asleep that night, listening to the cicadas grow louder and louder outside the open window, the young hunter couldn't stop thinking what a fiasco this whole investigation was turning out to be.


	8. The Cooking-Pot

It got worse.  
    "Jin.  Wake up."    
    He started.  In the dim grey of earliest morning, Zen stood over him, his face implacable.  He didn't wait for the younger to speak.  "There's been another murder."  
    In an instant, Jin was on his feet, rushing to dress.  "Where?" he asked.  
    "Middle Ougi.  A Low Court judge.  We just got word from the city guard."  
    "When?"  
    "They're not sure.  The messenger didn't have any details.  The captain of the city guard just asked we come at once."  
    Jin nodded.  He knew the longer a crime scene sat before a competent investigator could get to it, the more likely evidence would be lost, moved, or destroyed by untrained guardsmen, bystanders, animals, the family of the deceased - time was of the essence.  In this case, he needed the authority of the Guard to get full access to the crime scene, so rather than civilian clothes he got into uniform, complete with sword, and he and Zen went to the stables rather than walk.  They rode fast through the sweaty dawn.  Mist hung in eerie drifts over the river as the two horses clattered over the bridge.  
    When they reached the house, a couple of city guardsmen and a city guard detective were waiting outside.  The sun, just sliding above the mountains, outlined the eastern horizon in blinding gold.  The air was already growing warmer; today looked to be even hotter than the day before.  "Glad you could come on such short notice," the detective said wearily.  He stifled a yawn.  "Sorry, I just got here a few minutes ago myself."  
    "What happened?" asked Jin.  
    "Uh... let's see."  The detective fumbled in a bag he wore over one shoulder.  "Damn, I just had it.  I took notes, but...  Sorry, I was up late doing... uh... work and stuff."  He whistled at the city guardsmen, who were milling around near the garden wall.  "Come here and tell these palace men what you told me," said the detective.  
    Jin, restless, didn't wait for the city guards to rouse themselves and wander over.  He was impatient with the detective and annoyed at the man's disinterest.  "I'm going to get a look at the crime scene," he told Zen.  "You get the details from them."  
    Zen nodded.  "I'll be in right after you.  I'm sure it'll only be a minute."  
    The door to the judge's house was open.  A guardsman stood next to the threshhold.    
    "How many dead?" Jin asked him.  
    "I don't know... one?"  The guard shrugged, looking uncomfortable.  "I started to go in but... well... the smell's kind of, um, offputting."  
    For a moment, Jin reconsidered his decision to enter the house.  But this was his investigation, wasn't it?  There might be something in there that would tell him where to go next, something that would solve the lack of progress and make Mon proud of his second's ingenuity.  This was no time for squeamishness.  He thanked the guard cursorily and, covering his mouth and nose with one sleeve of his uniform, the hunter stepped through the door.  
    At once, Jin understood what the guard was talking about.  Though the body must be only a day or two old, decomposition had set in quickly.  Leaving his shoes on as he stepped out of the foyer, Jin could already smell what awaited him in the next room.  Though it was still early in the day for most insects, the house was like an oven, and the sounds of buzzing flies grew louder as Jin reached for the partially-ajar door.  With a quick steadying breath, he slid the door open and stepped inside.  
    The smell of rot was overpowering.  Congealed puddles of blood had become spawning grounds for maggots, and the body was crawling with flies and ants...  No: bodies.  The guard by the door had said one victim, but Jin could see three here: one in a man's silk kimono by the hearth; one about ten steps further, dressed like a maidservant; and a third just inside an adjoining room, only its arm visible from here.  The young man felt himself start to tremble slightly, his unwillingness to take a closer look at this putrefying carnage making him anxious.  He wished now that he'd sent Zen in here instead - _he_ never seemed to have a problem with this kind of thing.  As it was, the younger hunter could feel his stomach turning lazy circles inside him.  Even with his sleeve over his face, he could barely breathe.    
     _Calm down_ , he told himself.  _You chose to go in first because this is your case.  You need to do this.  Calm down and do your job._  
    With trepidation he approached the man by the hearth.  A knife lay by the corpse's hand, the blade gooey to the hilt with blood.  An axe of the sort used for splitting firewood protruded from the back of his head.  So this was like the others, he thought.  The man must have fallen into the fireplace; one arm lay among scattered coals, and the sleeve of the kimono was charred and scorched.  Here and there the embers had landed on the wood floor and left burnt patches or curdled blood.  When Jin walked closer to the maid, he saw she had been stabbed and sliced repeatedly, ostensibly with the man's knife; her eyes were open, milky-grey and dotted with flies.  The last victim, however - that was the worst.  As the hunter moved into the adjoining room, he saw that the outstretched arm he'd noticed from the front entryway was only that: an arm.  It had been hacked off haphazardly, leaving jagged dents in the limb from the axe.  The other body parts were strewn wildly around the room, the pieces near-unrecognizable with blood and gore and swarming insects.  Jin couldn't tell if the deceased had been a man or a woman, but the arm was large enough he knew it belonged to an adult.  The window of the room was open just a sliver, but it didn't seem to help the heat - or the smell.  
    Feeling dizzy and sick, Jin strode quickly out of the house into the front garden, where he gulped the fresh morning air as if he'd been holding his breath the whole time he was inside... which he sort of had been.  He felt a hand on his arm and turned sharply.  Zen was frowning at him.  "Bad, is it?"  
    Jin nodded, realising he must look as nauseous as he felt.  "There's three dead and a lot of blood.  Looks like the same story as the rest: man stabbed the maid, maid hacked him and another apart with an axe.  How many people are supposed to have been inside?"  
    "The detective only said one... but I don't think anyone's been in to see except you.  The cook was off for the weekend; when she came back, about two hours ago, she noticed something was wrong, started to go in, saw a body, and ran.  The city guard detective says the judge had last week off work, and the cook last saw him three days ago and didn't think anything amiss.  He also said the judge's family is on their way.  They're going to want to take the body for funeral rites.  If there are any clues, we need to find them now."  
    "You go in," said Jin.  "I'll follow... I just need a moment, first."  
    Zen nodded.  "Don't worry, I can take care of this.  Maybe you'd better get Yun - we might need his photographic memory."  
    Jin didn't like to admit it, but Zen was right.  They should have gotten Yun to join them from the start.  Yet another thing Jin should have thought of and didn't.  His mind returned to the mutilated bodies inside the house, and he felt a wrenching sensation in his gut - this time, not of sickness but of responsibility.  He should have solved the case before this had happened.  Mon would surely have discovered the killer's identity and stopped him within two days of receiving the case.  If Jin hadn't been so caught up in the silly coincidences between the murders, he might have been able to prevent three more deaths.  His brain rattled off the commonalities he'd called clues, as if these diversions were evidence of his incompetence: talk of possession and curses, uncharacteristic behaviour, disgruntled Yaku, smoke-  
    His mind's eye flashed at once to the burned kimono sleeve, the scattered coals.  He could imagine the course of events easily: the man had stabbed the maid, then, thinking her finished, turned away; she struck him in the head with the axe and he fell forward into the fire.  But who would have made a fire in this heat?  Even now the hunter could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck, and the sun hadn't been up an hour yet.  If the judge had wanted tea, the maid would have made it in the kitchen and brought the pot out on a tray.  Cooking was done in a well-ventilated outbuilding this time of year, not in the house and never in the house's main room.  The only reason a hearth inside the home would be lit would be to warm the place up - but the judge couldn't possibly have been cold, especially with the way that house trapped heat.  It made too little sense to not be important somehow.  Yes, it was a coincidence, maybe a distraction, but he had to know.  
    With a few deep breaths to prepare his lungs and nerves both, Jin reentered the house, holding his breath in earnest this time.  He went directly to the main room, where Zen was taking notes in a little twine-bound book.  Over the hearth, on a metal tripod, stood a big iron soup-pot.  The lid was off, leaning against the side of the hearth's interior.  
    Without a word, Jin went to the pot, took it off its stand, and carried it outside, taking the lid as well.  Zen stared after him, perplexed.  After a moment's vacillation, he followed.  
    "Look," said Jin when Zen walked over.  He indicated a scummy residue coating the bottom of the pot.  It resembled the crystals left over when salt water evaporates, but was pale brown in color, floating on a thin film of glistening iridescent sludge.  
    "What is that?" said Zen.  "Mold?"  
    "I don't know.  But I think it might be important."  
    Zen said nothing, but his silence said plenty.  
    Jin brushed off his colleague's doubts - and his own - and covered the pot.  "I'll send Yun to record everything about the crime scene and help you interview witnesses, research the victims, and the rest," he said.  "You're in charge of everything.  I'll be back by supper."  He mounted his horse, the pot under one arm, and rode off before Zen could make him think better of it.  The older hunter shook his head and went back inside.


	9. Expert Analysis

"Jin?  I didn't expect to see you back so soon!  Have you made any progress with your case?"  Tanda had been in the midst of preparing breakfast, but he greeted his guest cheerfully.  Torogai had only just woken; Balsa had left near dawn to get some supplies in town and would be back later.  Tanda held the door open and beckoned the hunter inside with a smile.  Jin bowed and greeted him politely, but it was immediately clear he hadn't come to see the herbalist.  
    "What's all that racket?" Torogai growled.  She was hunched near the cupboards, sitting crosslegged with a bowl of leftover rice in one hand, scowling at the door.  "Tell them to come back when I'm not so hungover."  She saw who it was and hardly had time to harrumph her disapproval before Jin crossed the room to where she sat and bowed low, going down on one knee and holding out to her, of all things, an iron cooking pot.  
    "Madame Torogai," Jin said solemnly, "I know that it's rude for me to come unannounced and impose on you like this, but please assist me once again.  I need to know what substance is inside this pot."  
    The woman stared at him, then looked up at Tanda, who shrugged.  Her narrowed gaze turned on the hunter.  "What the hell is this, mutt?  Why are you bringing me a dirty soup pot?"  
    "Three people were murdered this weekend.  Whatever's in this pot had something to do with their deaths.  I'm certain of it."  
    "This dog's been knocked in the head one too many times," Torogai grumbled aloud.  
    "Please, Madame Torogai.  You must help me.  If this killer isn't stopped, there's no telling when he'll strike next.  I'll pay you for your trouble, if that will help compensate the imposition."  
    Torogai sniffed, but she set down her bowl and motioned him to hand over the pot.  He did, and Torogai pulled off the lid and stuck her head inside.  With her face almost touching the crystalline scum, she examined it carefully, squinting at it, smelling it, taking some between two fingers and seeing how it crumbled.  Jin waited in silence, still kneeling, and Tanda, feeling awkward and a little left out, went back to making breakfast, keeping a wary eye on his master.  After a long, tense interval, Torogai set down the pot and straightened.  Tanda glanced up, expecting her to say something awful and preparing to be damage control; but to his surprise, the old woman's expression had lost its characteristic curmudgeonliness.  She looked deadly grim.  
    "You were right to come here, boy," she said.  
    Tanda moved closer.  At least 'boy' was an improvement on 'dog' or 'mutt', he thought.  
    "Then you know what this substance is?" Jin asked.  
    Torogai gave a grave nod.  "This is powerful magic.  I've made a similar potion myself - but what's in this pot is more potent and more dangerous than I've ever encountered.  If someone were to consume this, breathe it, maybe even touch it, they would lose all contact with reality.  That magician you've been looking for would be able to make them do whatever he wanted, no matter how heinous."  She set down the pot and replaced the lid.  "You're dealing with a magic weaver, all right - but one more powerful than any I know.  You'll be lucky if you can find them; they're probably using spells to keep themselves well-hidden.  Whoever did this is using really dark magic, so if you do find them..."  She shrugged and picked up her rice bowl again, back to her usual ornery self.  "You'll probably be dead before you even know you've found your killer."  
    Tanda, listening to this, felt a chill.  He remembered how suspicious his family had become when they discovered he was studying magic.  No matter how many times he helped them or the others in their home village, his siblings never seemed to trust him, and any time that something went wrong, Tanda had been the first one they blamed.  Yet he had never heard anything about a magic weaver using their abilities for evil - nothing he'd believed, anyway.  To think that there was someone out there as powerful as Torogai herself, who was inducing people to commit murder, felt like a betrayal of magic weaving as a discipline.  It sparked an anger inside the herbalist that only arose when he encountered major injustices - an anger he couldn't hold back.  Before either of the others could speak, he blurted, "Master, who would do such a thing?"  
    "Who wouldn't?" she retorted.  "Most people aren't afraid to kick down others to get ahead."  
    "But what can this person stand to gain?"  Tanda's voice rose with his fury.  "They're just killing to kill!  How can anyone justify such pointless destruction?"  
    Torogai gave him a cold expression.  "Your naivete never ceases to amaze me, apprentice."  
    Jin said, "Madame Torogai, how do I find the person responsible for this?"  
    "How the hell should I know?  You're the detective; you do it."  
    "And when I find them?  How do I kill them?"  
    She shrugged, radiating irritation.  "Killing's what you people do best.  Figure it out yourselves."  
    "Is there any defense against such magic?"  
    "Stop asking all these questions," the old woman snapped.  "The only defense is to kill the magic weaver, and you'll never be able to do that.  I've told you what I know.  Now leave me alone."  
    Jin nodded, bowed again despite her rudeness, and thanked Torogai.  He took back the cooking pot and headed for the door.  
    "Wait," said Tanda, grabbing the hunter's arm.  "Stay a little longer.  Balsa will be back soon.  Maybe she-"  
    Jin shook his head.  "No, I've involved you more than enough already.  Thank you, Tanda-san, but there's no time to lose.  I don't wish to put you in any danger, and I don't want to mix Balsa-san up in this any more than I've mixed up you and Mistress Torogai.  When this is finished, I'll come for your letter to the Prince.  Take care, Tanda-san."  He bowed again and hurried out.


End file.
